The bright moon shed a white light over the great, silent courtyards of
the Imperial palace at Vienna.
A bugle had just sounded, the guards had changed with a sudden clang of
arms that rang out in the clear night, followed by the sound of men
marching back to the guardhouse. A sharp word of command, a second
bugle note, and then all was quiet again, save for the slow, measured
tread of the sentries at each angle of the ponderous palace.
From without all looked grim and gloomy, in keeping with that strange
fate that follows the hapless Hapsbourgs; yet beyond those black walls,
in the farther wing of the Imperial palace were life and gaiety and
music; indeed there was presented perhaps the most magnificent scene in
all Europe.
The first Court ball of the season was at its height, and the aged
Emperor Francis-Joseph was himself present--a striking figure in his
uniform and orders.
Filled with the most brilliant patrician crowd in all the world--the
women in tiaras and blazing with jewels, and the men in Court dress or
in gorgeous uniforms--the huge ballroom, with its enormous crystal
electroliers and its gold--and--white Renaissance decorations, had never
been the scene of a more dazzling display. Archdukes and archduchesses,
princes and princesses, nobles and diplomatists, ministers of the empire
and high functionaries of State danced or gossiped, intrigued or talked
scandal; or those whose first ball it was worried themselves over points
of etiquette that are always so puzzling to one not born in the Court
atmosphere.
The music, the scent of the flowers, the glare and glitter, the beauty
of the high-born women, the easy swagger of the bestarred and beribboned
men, combined to produce a scene almost fairy-like.
Laughter rang from pretty lips, and men bent to whisper into the ears of
their partners as they waltzed over the perfect floor, after having paid
homage to their Emperor--that lonely, broken man whose good wife, alas!
had fallen beneath the assassin's knife.
A sovereign's heart may be broken, but he must nevertheless keep up a
brave show before his subjects.
So he stood at the end of the room with the Imperial circle about him,
smiling upon them and receiving their homage, although he longed to be
back in his own quiet room at the farther end of the palace, where their
laughter and the strains of music could not reach his ears.
One pale, sweet-faced woman in that gay, irresponsible crowd glanced at
him and read his heart.
Her fair beauty was extremely striking, and her neat-waisted figure
perfect. Indeed, she had long ago been acknowledged to be the most
lovely figure at the Austrian Court--the most brilliant Court of
Europe--a countenance which even her wide circle of enemies could not
criticise without showing their ill nature; a perfect countenance,
which, though it bore the hallmark of her imperial birth as an
Archduchess, yet was sweet, dimpled, and innocent as a child's.
The Princess Claire--Cecille-Marie-Alexandrine was twenty-four. Born
and bred at that Court, she had three years before been married to the
Crown Prince of a German house, the royal house of Marburg, and had left
it for the Court at Treysa, over which her husband would, by reason of
his father's great age, very soon be sovereign.
At that moment she was back in Vienna on a brief visit to her father,
the Archduke Charles, and had taken a turn around the room with a smart,
well-set-up man in cavalry uniform--her cousin Prince George of Anhalt.
She was dressed in ivory white, wearing in her fair hair a wonderful
tiara; while in the edge of her low-cut bodice there showed the crosses
and ribbons of the Orders of St. Elizabeth and Teresa--decorations
bestowed only upon Imperial princesses.
Many eyes were turned upon her, and many of the friends of her girlhood
days she saluted with that charming frankness of manner which was so
characteristic of her open nature. Suddenly, while walking around the
room, a clean-shaven, dark-haired, quick-eyed man of thirty in Court
dress bowed low before her, and in an instant, recognising him, she left
her cousin's side, and crossing spoke to him.
"I must see your Imperial Highness before she leaves Vienna," he
whispered quickly to her in English, after she had greeted him in German
and inquired after his wife. "I have something private and important to
tell you."
The Crown Princess looked at him quickly, and recognised that the man
was in earnest. Her curiosity became aroused; but she could ask no
questions, for a hundred eyes were now upon her.
"Make an appointment--quickly, your Highness. I am here expressly to
see you," he said, noticing that Prince George was approaching to carry
her off to the upper end of the room, where the members of the Imperial
family were assembled.
"Very well. In the Stadtpark, against the Caroline Bridge, at eight
to-morrow night. It will be dark then."
"Be careful that you are not followed," he whispered; and then he bowed
deeply as she left him.